


Losing You

by mindhunter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Bittersweet, Broken Up, Drunk Harry, Jealousy, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, brokenhearted Harry, my two idiots are helplessly in love, sad draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindhunter/pseuds/mindhunter
Summary: "How the fuck are you still single, Malfoy? You're bloody perfect," Harry mumbled and Draco felt the air leave his lungs in a quick whoosh, as if had fallen and landed right on his back, gasping for breath for a few seconds before the pain surged behind his ribs.





	Losing You

Draco wasn't thinking when he walked into the pub - what used to be  _their_ pub - that night. He had let his feet take control, blindly letting his body guide him to wherever it felt he needed to go. 

He felt like he was back in Hogwarts, waiting for the door to the Room of Requirements to appear as his mind called out for a safe place - a place he felt at home. 

Of course, he had to turn around when he realized he was at the doorstep of Grimmauld Place, the wards still open to let him in. His heart had clenched painfully upon realizing that Harry hadn't changed that immediately, and for a foolish second, Draco felt hope - hopeful that Harry was still waiting for him to come back, hopeful that he could fix things. 

But he knew that only in his wildest dreams that would happen. Harry had probably just forgotten to adjust the wards accordingly; it had only been a couple of weeks after all.

Harry was happy, he was moving on and who was Draco to try and interfere with his happiness?

So he turned on his heel and somehow, he ended up at the place where it all began. 

And seated at the bar was none other than Harry James Potter, owner of Draco Malfoy's heart. 

~

Harry was miserable. 

He spent his days wearing a cheery mask of joy to spare his closest friends the misery that loomed overhead, threatening to drown him at a moments notice, but that didn't mean he was actually happy. In fact, he could remember the last time he was truly happy and that moment included a certain blond git. 

The same one who had taken his heart and torn it to shreds. 

He paused on his way to the kitchen, shoulders sagging and his mangled heart breaking just a tiny bit more upon realizing that he didn't need to be cooking because _Draco_ wasn't coming home and without Draco, Harry didn't see the need to eat. 

The food tasted like nothing and the churning in his stomach prevented him from eating much anyway. There just wasn't a point. 

It always hurt - realizing that the man he loved wouldn't be waltzing in through the doorway, headed straight for the wine opener as he began to rant about his day at work. Or when he laid in bed - on the right side because Draco always slept on the left - only to have the shards of his heart threaten to puncture his lungs because Draco wasn't coming to bed. 

Because Draco wasn't coming back at all. He had left and taken Harry's heart with him.

And it was all Harry's fault. 

He sighed again, leaning his forehead on the cool glass panes of the window. This was what his life had come to: waiting by the window like some kicked puppy, desperately wishing that for some strange reason, Draco would show up on his doorstep. 

He never did. 

"Master Harry must go out. Master mustn't be cooped up here!" Kreacher exclaimed later in the evening. Even the spiteful elf had taken pity on Harry and he absently wondered how miserable he must look to have Kreacher, of all people, attempt to cheer him up. 

"I suppose," he sighed yet again. He really didn't want to leave the confines of his home but he knew Draco wouldn't show up. 

Maybe Harry had always been a masochist; that would explain why he let his childhood bully become the love of his life, or why he continued to pick at his tattered heart, or why he found himself at the pub where they had shared so many memories that he couldn't look anywhere without being reminded of the beautiful person he had lost. 

Maybe he liked the pain, but every masochist had a limit and Harry was at his. 

~

"Draco! Draco Malfoy!" The person in question tensed, his heart thudding painfully against his chest as every patron in the bar turned to look at him. _Bloody Gryffindors and their lack of subtlety_. Placing the signature Malfoy scowl on his features, Draco straightened and warily approached the man who still owned his heart and soul. 

He should've stayed home. 

Instead, he sat on the seat next to Harry, his hands itching to smooth the brunet's messy fringe - the same wild, soft curls that Draco had run his hands through so frequently. 

"Potter," he nodded, signaling the bartender to get him whatever concoction he was drinking. Merlin knew he'd need the liquid courage if he was going to live through this conversation without regretting his decision 3 weeks prior. 

The crooked, affectionate smile Harry sent him had him cursing his past self. 

How could he have let someone like him go? What was he bloody _thinking_? 

 "How've you been?" Harry suddenly slurred and the realization hit Draco like a bludger. Harry was _drunk_. Drunker than he had ever seen him, in fact. 

And he wanted to talk to Draco of all people. 

"Fine," he said and pretending his voice didn't crack halfway through, he continued. "And yourself?" 

"'m fine too," he mumbled, looking intensely at his glass. Suddenly, that smoldering gaze lifted and Draco felt his breath catch because holy fuck, Harry had always had the most captivating eyes. Draco didn't want to think about Harry's eyes or his lips or anything about him so he blurted out the first thing he could think of.

"Did you catch the last Quidditch match?" 

\----

"How the fuck are you still single, Malfoy? You're bloody perfect," Harry mumbled and Draco felt the air leave his lungs in a quick whoosh, as if had fallen and landed right on his back, gasping for breath for a few seconds before the pain surged behind his ribs. 

He wanted to tell Harry that he wasn't single - that he was dating the most charming, kind, selfless human being he had ever met - but he couldn't because he had broken up with said individual. So instead he resorted to the painful truth. 

"Don't you remember Harry? We broke up a few weeks ago. I don't believe I'm quite ready to date anyone else," _ever_ , his mind supplied.

"No. No, that's not possible. If we had been together... I- I never would've let you go..." Harry trailed off, his voice questioning. Draco couldn't do anything but stare pleadingly at the man before him, begging him to understand because he absolutely could not spit those vile words out again. Though Harry's voice had started off certain, it had turned into something soft and vulnerable, as if confused by the fact that what they were once was now no more. 

But what hurt the most was his eyes. His eyes, always so clear and earnest, seemed to have dimmed, as if the impact of the words were finally taking effect and Draco couldn't help but hate himself more because he had put that look there for the second time. 

And suddenly, the warm, fuzzy atmosphere of the evening was sucked out of the air only to be filled with tense silence as Harry took in the words. Draco stared straight ahead, the bottles behind the counter demanding his attention. 

A slight movement from his side finally drew his attention back and whatever was left of his heart was demolished, torn and burned into ash as he took in the tear stained face of the only man he'd ever loved. 

His hands shook at his side but he held them in tight fists. He would not touch Harry. 

He had done enough damage. 

~

Harry ached. His heart ached as the memories began to flood in, breaking down the dilapidated wall he had spent weeks building to keep them out. Memories of him teaching Draco what a toaster was, watching their first muggle film together, their bickering, them cooking together, their first kiss, the first time they whispered their "I love you's," and the worst: their breakup. 

"I'm so sorry," he gasped out, his voice thick with an emotion he could no longer deny. 

"I'm so fucking sorry, Draco. I fucked everything up - I always do, I told you from the beginning. I hurt you so much and I didn't even fucking know. I'm _sorry_ ," he sobbed, his vision blurred as more fat tears made their way down his heated face - tears that were quickly wiped away by smooth, pale thumbs. 

"I think we should talk about this in private," Draco whispered, his tone something so soft that it made Harry ache all over again. 

 He could only nod in agreement, the lump in his throat refusing to recede. 

\----

The heat in his cheeks refused to leave even after he had taken a sobering potion and he felt ashamed to have cried so pathetically in front of Draco. He had embarrassed himself enough for a lifetime yet life seemed to take no mercy upon the blubbering idiot that he was. 

"So... I guess I should say I'm sorry," Draco mumbled, his gaze on the painting above Harry's head. 

"For?" 

"For everything, I suppose. Mostly for break- breaking up with you," he explained, taking a shuddering breath. Harry ached yet again, ached desperately to take him into his arms and smooth the crease between his pale eyebrows and kiss away his worries and just _reassure_ him that it would all be okay.

"Me too. I mean, I'm sorry too." 

"Harry, you have nothing to apologize for, if-"

"No, I do. I'm sorry for not noticing how you felt, Draco. I... I wasn't the most attentive partner, I should have seen how much the rumors were affecting you." 

"I should've trusted you," Draco whispered, his eyes glistening with tears, the pain in his soft voice evident to Harry. He wanted to argue, to say that Harry was the one at fault, that he should bare the blame but he couldn't. Because they had both fucked up. 

"We can't change the past now," Harry laughed humorlessly. It was something he had discovered a few years after the war, when the nightmares became especially harrowing and his guilt had refused to leave him. It was true; he couldn't spend his life mourning the dead and blaming himself for the outcomes. 

He still missed them, but he understood that they had made a choice, they had understood the sacrifices that needed to be made. 

The nightmares still plagued him but he no longer blamed himself entirely, instead, he tried to live valiantly, a life that those he lost would be proud of. A life _he_ was proud of.

"No... no, we can't. But we can take the future into our own hands," Draco said, his voice now strong and determined. Much like he had sounded the night he broke up with Harry.

He nodded tersely, not knowing exactly what to reply to that. 

"We can choose to learn from our past mistakes," Draco continued slowly, as if easing into something that could potentially scare Harry off. "We can always... fix our errors." 

"I suppose," Harry acquiescenced, his brow furrowing as he wonder if he was imagining a deeper meaning behind the innocent words. 

"Harry?" 

"Hm?" He replied, not quite looking up from the lines on his table. It was a great table. Very sturdy. Made of some sort of tree, he could never remember which. 

"Let's fix our mistake?" Draco whispered just as long slender fingers covered Harry's. He swallowed audibly, turning his head up to look at the blond man, the same one who had broken his heart and walked out of their home. 

The same man Harry was madly in love with. 

The person he could never bear to lose. 

It should've come as a shock but Harry found that nothing was really predictable when it came to Draco Malfoy. He couldn't be blamed for kissing him. 

 

He definitely wasn't going to be losing Draco again. 

 

 

 


End file.
